


storytime

by Spikedluv



Category: Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters (2013)
Genre: Cameo by Gretel, Community: smallfandomfest, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-08 04:59:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11639421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spikedluv/pseuds/Spikedluv
Summary: Storytime takes on a whole new meaning.





	storytime

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Round 21 of Small Fandom Fest [on LJ](http://smallfandomfest.livejournal.com/) | [on DW](http://smallfandomfest.dreamwidth.org/) for the prompt: _Hansel & Gretel: Witch Hunters (2013), Hansel/Ben, Where women were disgusted, Ben finds Hansel's stories fascinating. It proves pretty easy to get him into bed after that._
> 
> Written: July 28, 2017

Ben was leaning so far forward, sitting right on the edge of his seat, that Hansel was surprised he didn’t fall out of his chair. Hansel didn’t stop talking or gesticulating with his hands to warn him because Ben was currently paying rapt attention and Hansel didn’t want to break whatever spell had him captivated by Hansel’s story.

Gretel quickly grew bored of Hansel’s stories (understandable since she’d been there for most of them, or had already heard them a million times), and most women were disgusted by the inevitable gore that accompanied the killing of witches. (Hansel loved to describe in great detail how his weapons incapacitated witches until they could be dealt with by fire or hacking off their heads. His weapons were his pride and joy, and killing black witches was his raison d'etre, and anyone who didn’t understand that about him wasn’t worth the time of day, although, to be completely honest, he’d have happily given them a few hours of his night if they’d stuck around ‘til the end of the story.)

But back to Ben, who was hanging onto Hansel’s every word, not even stopping him to ask questions so he could scribble down a note or a quick sketch on the first scrap of parchment he could find in his pocket, or to take a drink from his nearly full tankard. Speaking of. Hansel checked his tankard (empty), then switched it with Ben’s full one and took a gulp of ale to wet his parched throat before continuing with the story.

When they’d invited Ben to join them Hansel hadn’t realized how nice it would be to have a fresh, _appreciative_ audience for his stories. Ben, Hansel was coming to realize, enjoyed hearing Hansel’s stories nearly as much as Hansel enjoyed telling them. He was always fascinated and would ask for more detail, or for Hansel to repeat a particularly thrilling series of events. (At which point Gretel would roll her eyes at them and go off to find her own sport.)

Hansel was just now beginning to realize what Gretel meant when she said they were both oblivious, because when he said that Ben was ‘enjoying’ the telling (retelling, actually) of this particular story, Hansel meant _enjoying_. Ben’s pupils were dilated, his cheeks flushed, and his breaths coming quicker than normal. There was a reason that Ben had kept a scrapbook of Hansel’s and Gretel’s exploits; Hansel had just always thought that reason was Gretel. Hansel paused in his story-telling to ponder that perhaps it wasn’t.

Hansel licked his lips and leaned towards Ben. “Ben.”

Ben’s gaze dropped to Hansel’s lips as he leaned even further forward. This time he had to put out a foot to keep himself from landing on the floor. “Yes, Hansel?”

“It’s getting late,” Hansel said, “and this is a _very long_ story. Perhaps we should finish it in our room where we won’t be . . . interrupted.”

Now that there were four of them counting Edward, Hansel and Ben shared a room when they were in a town while Gretel slept wherever the hell she pleased. Sometimes that was with in a bed with Hansel and Ben, sometimes with Edward wherever he chose to bed down, and sometimes with whatever strapping young lad (or the occasional barmaid) that had caught her fancy.

Tonight Gretel had used Hansel telling another story she’d heard a million times to sneak out with the innkeeper’s daughter. Or son. Or both. Hansel had gotten too into the telling of his story to pay any attention. Although if he asked, Ben would probably know. Ben readily agreed to returning to their room, so Hansel left the question of who Gretel had retired with for later.

Hansel finished the ale and thunked the tankard back down on the wood plank table. He let himself stumble a little bit when he stood. Ben reflexively reached out to catch him and Hansel threw an arm around Ben’s shoulder. “Thanks, buddy.”

“You’re welcome,” Ben muttered. His face took on a deeper hue of red. Ben ducked his head to hide it, but Hansel could still see the splash of red across his cheekbone.

Hansel leaned heavily on Ben as they wound their way through the crowded dining area to the stairs leading to the rooms on the upper floors. Since they hadn’t been hired for a hunt their rooms weren’t being paid for by the governing council, and Gretel insisted they didn’t require the best (and therefore most expensive) rooms for their meager needs, so their room was in the attic space.

Normally Hansel hated that because it was too hot during the summer, and too cold during the winter, but tonight he milked the extra flight of stairs for all he was worth. By the time they reached their room Ben’s hands had traveled expansively across Hansel’s chest in an attempt to keep him upright and both of them were feeling the effects of their nearness, though only Hansel was aware of that fact.

Ben had to release Hansel with one hand so he could get their door open. Hansel took the opportunity to twist around and drape himself over Ben like a limpet. Ben made a sound that could’ve been a groan at having to take on the additional weight, or because their fronts were now pressed together.

Hansel let Ben back him into the room and gave a satisfied hum against Ben’s neck when Ben had managed to reach back with his leg to kick the door shut. Hansel took control of their progress and backed Ben up until his back hit the newly-closed door.

“Do you remember that witch we killed outside Ravensfeld?”

“Yes,” Ben said, his voice a squeak of aggravation. “You let her nearly gut you before you hit her with the exploding arrow.”

“It was just a scratch,” Hansel said, mostly to hear Ben’s squawk of indignation. “I loved that exploding arrow. You need to make more of those.”

“I will,” Ben said, breathless.

“Have I ever told you how glad I am that I agreed to let you join us?”

Ben snorted at Hansel’s version of events. “Not even when I was holding your stomach together so Gretel could sew you up.”

“Hmm. Well, I am.”

“Because I make you weapons,” Ben said.

“Oh, absolutely because of that,” Hansel said, unable to mute his enthusiasm for all the lovely weapons Ben had invented. “But there are other reasons, too.”

“Because I can cook?”

Edward could cook better than Ben, but Hansel didn’t dare mention that now. “And other reasons.”

“Like what?” Ben said, interested despite himself.

“You’re handy with a map, and with figures. You’re almost as good as a furnace on cold nights.”

Hansel wished he could see Ben’s face; his cheeks were probably bright red by now.

“You’re a good listener. And you’re pretty to look at.”

Ben squirmed. “We should get you into bed,” he said firmly.

“Let’s do that,” Hansel agreed, once again letting Ben guide him backwards towards the bed. When the back of his legs hit the frame he let himself topple backwards. He didn’t let go of Ben, and there was just enough light from the moon to see the surprised look that flashed across Ben’s face as he tumbled down after Hansel, landing right on top of him.

In Ben’s scramble to get off of Hansel he nearly kneed him between the legs. Hansel captured both of Ben’s legs with one of his and wrapped his arms around Ben so that they were pinned together chest-to-chest. “Where was I?” he mused. “Oh, yeah.”

Hansel continued to tell the story he’d begun downstairs. Pressed together like this, he could feel each of Ben’s responses – the warm feather of Ben’s heavy breaths against his neck, the heat coming off Ben’s flushed cheeks, and the hardness that poked into Hansel’s hip. He could also tell when Ben realized that they were fully pressed together with no way to hide his physical reaction.

Ben tried to raise up and put space between their groins. Hansel didn’t pause in his story-telling as he ran one hand down Ben’s back to his ass. He held Ben in place and lifted up his own hips. Ben gasped when their groins rubbed together. Hansel tried to keep talking, but his mouth went dry and his brain shorted out.

Hansel released Ben’s legs and sat up so he could get his hands on the back of Ben’s thighs. Hansel tugged, and Ben’s legs spread so that he was straddling Hansel’s lap. Hansel kept one hand on the back of Ben’s thigh, kneading the muscle, and brought the other up to cup the back of Ben’s head.

Ben clutched at Hansel’s shoulders and tentatively moved his hips. Hansel laid back down and took Ben with him, his hand sliding along the back of Ben’s thigh and up to his ass, encouraging Ben’s hesitant thrusts.

Hansel pressed his mouth to Ben’s, teased his tongue across Ben’s lips until Ben parted them. He slipped his tongue between Ben’s lips and took the soft keens Ben made into his mouth. Hansel broke the kiss so they could breathe. While Ben gasped for breath, his eyes wide and wild as he moved against Hansel, Hansel kissed a trail from the corner of his mouth, along his jaw, and down his throat. Ben’s raspy breaths and soft moans filled the room, and his surprisingly strong fingers dug into Hansel’s shoulders.

Ben whined when Hansel shoved his hand between them, disrupting the motion of his hips. He made a sound that went directly to Hansel’s cock when Hansel touched him through his trousers. Hansel got distracted by Ben’s reaction to being squeezed and stroked and briefly forgot his purpose. Despite Ben’s eagerness as he tried to keep Hansel’s hand on him, Hansel managed to get his fingers into the laces and untie them.

The sound Ben made when Hansel slipped his hand beneath the material and curled his fingers around the firm length of him filled Hansel with a sense of self-satisfaction and a desire to hear more. Hansel gave Ben a few strokes and watched Ben’s eyes lose focus. Ben’s eyelids fell closed and he shuddered as he pushed into Hansel’s hand.

Without the slide of Ben against him, Hansel’s cock begged for attention. He released Ben long enough to untie his own trousers, licking Ben’s whine of protest out of his mouth. Hansel would’ve chuckled at the sound Ben made when he got his hand around both of them and stroked, but he didn’t have breath to spare.

Hansel looked down his torso and wished he could see what Ben looked like, but there was very little illumination in the room, and it was darker still between their bodies where his hand worked them. Hansel wiped his thumb across their tips. Pre-come oozed from the slits and though it was little use in easing the way of his hand, he spread it around their heads.

Ben tossed his head back as if he couldn’t bear what Hansel’s touch was doing to him, the unfamiliar sensations filling him. Ben’s muscles went taut all along Hansel’s body. Two more strokes, and Ben trembled and fell apart. Hansel lightened his strokes, easing Ben through his release until he whined, too sensitive for even Hansel’s gentle touch.

Hansel released Ben and wrapped his hand around his own cock with a much less considerate grip. He kept his eyes on the top of Ben’s bowed head as he stroked himself, concentrated on the rhythm of Ben’s labored breathing as it slowed, on the soft moans that occasionally issued from Ben’s mouth as his body recovered.

Hansel was close already, and he knew it wouldn’t take long. But then Ben raised his head and looked at Hansel with eyes that were still dark with arousal and wide with wonder, and Hansel came undone.

Ben was silent when they cleaned up, but Hansel refused to let things get awkward. When they laid down in the bed they shared to sleep, Hansel rolled to his side and pulled Ben against his front. Ben was stiff at first, but then he slowly relaxed.

Hansel hadn’t been kidding when he’d said that Ben was a furnace. It was almost too hot now, pressed so closely together, but Hansel didn’t want Ben to get all stiff and awkward again, so he refused to let go. “This is gonna be so awesome in the winter,” Hansel said into the back of Ben’s head.

Hansel laughed when Ben’s sharp elbow came back and poked him in the ribs. “Go to sleep,” he said, ignoring the soft inhalation when he pressed a kiss to the back of Ben’s neck.

Some time later Gretel returned to their room. Ben had been almost asleep, but he went tense against Hansel again. Hansel thought the heat coming off Ben intensified when the only comment Gretel made was a muttered, “Finally,” and a warning that, “You’d better not have left me the wet spot.”

Hansel chuckled and got another pointy elbow in response.

Gretel was already up and about when Hansel woke the next morning to Ben trying to ease out from under Hansel’s arm without waking him. “Breakfast in bed?” Hansel said.

Ben’s answer was to throw Hansel’s arm off him and scramble out of the bed. Hansel stretched and watched the flush crawl up Ben’s chest before he pulled the shirt on over his head and covered it. Before Ben could grab his boots and jacket and run, Hansel said, “Grab my kit, will you?”

Ben hesitated, his desire to hide warring with his instinct to help. Ben sighed, then dug the kit out of Hansel’s pack. Instead of taking it from Ben, Hansel merely tossed the covers back to expose his bare right side. Color splashed across Ben’s cheeks, but he gave Hansel a defiant look.

“Do you really want me to stab you with a needle right now?”

“I trust you,” Hansel said. It was meant to be teasing, but he realized that he was sincere. He did trust Ben. And if the color creeping up Ben’s throat was any indication, he knew that Hansel wasn’t making fun of him. “You have gentle hands. I remember that from the time you were, you know . . .” Hansel gestured towards his the thin scar on his stomach, all that remained to remind him of the wound.

“You don’t remember anything from that day,” Ben said, moving towards the bed once more. “You were high on adrenaline and those herbs Edward stuffed down your throat.”

“I remember that you looked worried,” Hansel said. He did remember that, but he hadn’t really given it too much thought until now.

“Of course I was worried,” Ben said, his voice rough. He knelt beside the bed and kept his face down as he got the needle and medicine out of the kit. “I thought you were going to die, even though Gretel insisted that you didn’t dare or she’d perform a black magic ritual to bring you back to life just so she could kill you herself.”

“Heh,” Hansel said. That sounded like Gretel. He nudged Ben’s arm with his toe. “You like me.”

Ben hesitated, then gave Hansel an exasperated look that tried to hide . . . everything. “I don’t _dislike_ you,” he said.

Hansel barked out a laugh. “I like you, too,” he said, just as Ben slid across the floor on his knees until he was next to Hansel’s hip. If Ben was surprised by that, he hid it in the wipe of disinfectant and the press of the needle into Hansel’s skin. “I told you that you have gentle hands.”

Ben quickly cleaned off the needle and repacked the kit. “I’ll meet you downstairs,” he said, standing hastily and leaving the kit at the end of the bed. He shoved his feet into his boots, then grabbed his coat and pack.

Hansel moved swiftly, catching Ben just before he reached the door. Hansel spun Ben around and pressed his back up against the door. He took Ben’s face in his hands and kissed him until surprise and uncertainty melted away and Ben returned the kiss. Hansel ended the kiss with a dozen small ones and said, “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Ben mumbled in response.

Hansel gave Ben another kiss just because he couldn’t resist, then released him and stepped back. “Find Gretel and see if we have time for breakfast before we leave, will you?” Hansel turned and walked over to the bed where his clothes were piled on the floor.

Whatever Ben’s response was going to be, it came out strangled and garbled as he got a full look at Hansel’s backside. “You’re an ass,” Ben said crisply.

Hansel waited until the door shut behind Ben to allow himself more than a smile. He chuckled as he picked the pile of clothes off the floor and sorted through them. As he dressed, Hansel wondered what story he might tell that night. He’d have to make it a good one, a favorite of Ben’s, or even better, one he hadn’t heard yet.

The End


End file.
